Page 65 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
Chastity looked at her, worry etched in every line of her expression. “What is it?”
Minerva drew in a trembling breath, feeling the weight of the confession she was about to make. “I overheard Lord Gillies,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He asked for Father’s blessing... to propose to me.”
Chastity’s eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting as she processed the revelation. “Lord Gillies?” she echoed, disbelief coloring her tone. “But... isn’t that what you wanted? A respectable match, someone Father would approve of?”
Minerva shook her head, the words spilling out in a rush. “It is what I thought I wanted,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “But when I heard him ask, all I felt was dread. I don’t want him, Chastity. I don’t... I cannot see a future with him.”
Her sister’s brows knitted together in concern. “Then what do you want?” she asked gently, though the question felt like a dagger to Minerva’s heart.
Minerva looked away, her gaze focusing on a point in the distance as she struggled to find the right words. She couldn’t say who she did want, couldn’t speak the name that haunted her thoughts, the man who had left her heart in pieces. “I just know it is not him,” she said softly. “Not Lord Gillies.”
Chastity studied her, the understanding in her eyes deepening. “Then you have to tell Father,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “You cannot let him make this decision for you, not if it is not what you truly want.”
Minerva swallowed hard, the idea of confronting her father and rejecting Lord Gillies’s proposal filling her with anxiety. But she knew Chastity was right. She couldn’t let herself be swept along by what was expected of her, couldn’t let herself be trapped in a life she didn’t want.
“I will,” she whispered, though her voice wavered with uncertainty. “I will tell him.”
Chastity took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I will be there for you,” she promised. “Whatever happens.”
Minerva felt the tears threaten to fall again, but this time, they were tears of gratitude. In the face of everything, at least she still had her sister’s unwavering support. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice breaking.
Chastity’s smile was small but filled with love. “Always,” she said.
And for a moment, the ache in Minerva’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.
Twenty-Seven
Minerva woke the next morning with a pounding headache, the aftereffects of far too much champagne still clouding her mind. Sunlight filtered through the curtains of her bedchamber, casting warm patterns on the walls that did nothing to ease the ache in her temples. She groaned, burying her face in her pillow and willing herself back into the blissful oblivion of sleep.
But the events of the previous evening came flooding back: the proposal she had so desperately tried to prevent, the drunken tears she had spilled in Chastity’s arms, the way she had ranted and raved about Lord Gillies, and the heartbreak she had tried—and failed—to bury when it came to Evan. Embarrassment rushed over her, and she sat up with a grimace, cradling her head in her hands.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Chastity entered, her expression equal parts worried and gentle. She carried a small tray with a steaming cup of tea and a slice of toast, the scent of which made Minerva’s stomach churn.
“How are you feeling?” Chastity asked softly, setting the tray down on the side table and coming to sit beside Minerva on the bed.
Minerva managed a weak smile. “Like I have been run over by a carriage,” she muttered, reaching for the tea and taking a tentative sip. The warm liquid soothed her dry throat, but it did little to calm the chaos in her heart.
Chastity’s brow furrowed. “You were... quite upset last night,” she said gently, her eyes searching Minerva’s face. “Do you remember what you told me?”
Minerva’s cheeks flushed. She did remember, though she wished she could forget. She had confessed everything: her fears, her regrets, and, most painfully, her feelings for Evan. But now, in the harsh light of morning, everything felt more complicated. The certainty she had clung to in her drunken haze had faded, replaced by a cold, rational dread.
“I remember,” Minerva whispered, her voice hoarse. She set the tea aside, her hands trembling. “I was... not myself.”
Chastity hesitated, then reached for Minerva’s hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “But the things you said—about Lord Gillies, about how you don’t want to marry him—are those feelings truly just the result of too much champagne?”
Minerva’s gaze dropped to their clasped hands. Her heart screamed that she didn’t want to marry Lord Gillies, that she wanted something—someone—else entirely. But her headreminded her of Evan’s betrayal, of his disappearance, of the undeniable truth that he was a rake and would always be one. What future did she truly have with a man like that?
“I don’t know,” Minerva admitted, her voice breaking. “Evan is... he’s a rake, Chastity. He doesn’t love me. He never has. And Lord Gillies is... safe. He’s a respectable match, the kind of husband I am supposed to want.”
Chastity’s eyes softened with sympathy, but there was a flicker of something else there too—determination, perhaps. “Minerva,” she said gently, “what about your own happiness? Your own heart? You have always put everyone else’s needs before your own. You deserve more than safety. You deserve love.”
Minerva’s throat tightened, and she shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I cannot think about that now,” she whispered. “I have to be practical. I have to think of my family’s reputation, of what’s best for all of us.”
Chastity’s grip on her hand tightened. “But what if Evan does care for you?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent. “What if there’s more to him than what society sees?”
Minerva bit her lip, her resolve crumbling. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, though her voice wavered. “I cannot trust him, Chastity. I cannot risk my heart on a man who would break it so easily.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and filled with unspoken fears. Finally, Chastity rose from the bed, her expressionconflicted. “I won’t pretend to understand all of this,” she said softly. “But I do know one thing: you deserve to be happy. And if you won’t fight for it, perhaps someone else will.”
